


Promise Me

by lunaseemoony



Series: Promises [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Babies, Domestic Fluff, Episode Fix-it, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Episode: s01e13 The Parting of the Ways, Time Babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4681487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaseemoony/pseuds/lunaseemoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose isn't the only one relieved to see the Doctor hasn't regenerated after the events at the Game Station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tardisbluequill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisbluequill/gifts).



> This is part of a series of thank you drabbles for everyone who entered the Readers' Choice Special on tumblr. This is also canon to the fics Hide & Seek and The Best Cure. Though it's not necessary, one might enjoy this better after reading those first.

The Doctor welcomed a warm shiver with a salacious grin as he wrestled out of his vest with gusto. Rose giggled as her cheeks ripened. Everything beneath that duvet she was clutching to her face was all his, and it had been a few achingly long months since he'd made Rose aware of the fact. Her pursed lips and doe eyes told him she was thinking he so rarely grinned like this. They deserved it today. He'd narrowly avoided regenerating by the skin of his teeth. It wasn't a conversation he was ready to have with Rose, Jack or Oliver. And how would his baby girl react? He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to think about was closing the gap between his skin and Rose's as he slipped into bed with her. She'd saved his life countless times, in a number of ways. But today mattered the most. Today she saved _them_ , their life as a family, Jack, everything. Hours later, as the TARDIS settled down for a few hours, he still struggled with putting his gratitude to words. The smile she kissed him with, pressed to his lips, jaw, neck, and shoulder suggested he might not need to.

He threw back the duvet. There was no hiding beneath sheets allowed when his intent was to worship every inch of his goddess's skin. He'd seen her plenty of times since Sophie was born, but not at all in a romantic capacity yet. She hadn't wanted him to look. Her hands scrubbing her face and arms shielding her belly told him she still didn't want him to look. So he indulged her and closed his eyes. He didn't need them. He looked with his lips mapping her every curve, his tongue tasting -

“Daddy!”

The Doctor's head fell to Rose's chest, and he swallowed a whimper. She kissed his forehead and whispered, “You're up, Doctor. Your turn.”

“What?”

She rubbed her hand over his short hair and chuckled into its sleekness. “Pretty sure it's you that's going by 'Daddy' nowadays, eh Doctor?”

“Think you misheard,” he mumbled into her breast.

“Sophie can't talk yet. Not English anyway. That's your son.”

It was the last two words that had the Doctor sitting up and soaking in a deep breath of pride. Rose used those words sparingly, knowing how much they meant to him. Still, he considered maybe they misheard until the cry came again, louder this time. “Daddy!” The lisping cry echoed in the halls as the Doctor fumbled into his pants and rushed out the door. It didn't matter that Oliver's bedroom was all the way across the hall. He could have been crying right into the Doctor's ear. He paused at the open door and breathed in his son's desperate third cry for him. Him. He wanted him. He wanted his daddy. And he'd sooner let the daleks run the universe than not answer his son's cries for him.

Oliver bounced up and down in his crib, his hands in the air grappling for the Doctor across the room. The Doctor took long strides up to the crib and scooped the wailing toddler into his arms. Oliver's arms immediately coiled around his neck, and he hoisted himself up to his shoulder, crying for him over and over into his neck. The Doctor hushed him, and kissed the fleece of his footie pyjamas, the only part of him he could reach. He was about to ask what was wrong when Oliver began to tell him, as always in a mix of Gallifreyan, English and Baby.

“Ollie, look at me,” the Doctor bid into the little one's shoulder. “Look at Daddy.” His request was ignored in favor of crying into the Doctor's shoulder as his baby bum bounced in his cradled arms. “Oliver Peter Alan Tyler, look at me.” Oliver pouted – just like his mum in this regard – as he looked up and sniffed. “Some day, Daddy's _going_ to change, just like you, Ollie. You and Sophie will change some day. But not for a long time.”

“Daddy!” Oliver bleated in a pouting whimper, leaning in for another cuddle.

“I'll stay like this for a while.”

“Promise!”

This was a new word. Nobody had taught him this one. The Doctor's chest swelled with warmth as he held his son close. “Promise,” he whispered in the midst of a kiss to his crown. “I promise.”  


End file.
